


Hageshiku

by owarijanai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Japanese, M/M, Multi-Lingual, Mutual Pining, Smut, Tension, dirty phrases, don't get too excited it's not much smut, i'm a bit rusty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 02:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owarijanai/pseuds/owarijanai
Summary: On their way to Osaka for SMtown, Sicheng asks for a Japanese lesson. Yuta takes it a bit too far.





	Hageshiku

Yuta could not contain his excitement.

 

They were on a plane, all of NCT, scattered among the rows and talking amongst themselves as they prepared to leave for Osaka and the days-long SMtown concert there. Yuta had secured his place next to Sicheng right off the bat. The younger man was sitting by the window, meaning Yuta had to bribe Taeil for the seat beside him by promising to wash the dishes for a week. He wasn’t looking forward to that, but it was worth it now. He was going to Osaka, and Sicheng—

 

Sicheng was so close, his blond hair swept back from his forehead, silhouetted by the light coming in from the airplane’s window as they took off down the runway. Yuta felt like everything was coming together.

 

_Perfect._

 

“Yuta-hyung,” Sicheng said.

 

It was still odd hearing the Korean honorific tacked onto the end of his name, especially coming from Sicheng, but Korean was the only language they shared. “Yes?”

 

“Can you teach me some Japanese phrases?”

 

Every time Sicheng spoke, it caught Yuta off-guard. Even now. The younger boy’s voice was too deep for his own good. It made something in Yuta unfurl. “Like what?” he asked, feigning composure.

 

“I want to be able to greet the fans.”

 

“Oh.” Yuta thought of what Sicheng would want to say on stage, and said, “Well, you can say hello, which you know, and then introduce yourself by saying your name and then _desu_.”

 

“So … _konnichi wa,_ Winwin _desu_?”

 

“Yes, like that.”

 

Sicheng smiled. It brightened his entire face until he looked like he was glowing. “What else?”

 

“What else?”

 

“Like, what do I say if I want to thank them for coming?”

 

“Say _kyou wa kite kurete arigatou_. That’s kind of informal, though. You can tack on _gozaimasu_ to the end if you want to be a bit more formal.”

 

“Okay.” Sicheng repeated the phrase to himself a couple times, and suddenly, Yuta got a horrible, terrible idea.

 

“Sicheng.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“You can also say _hageshiku_.”

 

“ _Hageshiku?_ ”

 

Yuta felt the word shoot through him like lightning. He nodded, tight-lipped, and watched as Sicheng repeated it a few times.

 

“And _ikuzou_.”

 

“ _Ikuzou_ ,” Sicheng echoed dutifully.

 

Yuta began to think he had made a mistake.

 

“What do those words mean?” Sicheng asked. His eyes were so wide, so innocent. Yuta sometimes forgot there were two years between them.

 

“… Nothing. Forget it.”

 

“What?”

 

“I, uh, I need to use the restroom.” He stood from his seat, unclipping his seatbelt. They were thousands of feet in the air, and flight had never bothered Yuta before, but now his stomach roiled, and he felt the need to lock himself away in the tiny airplane bathroom and take a couple deep breaths.

 

_Why did I do that?_

 

The memory of Sicheng’s deep voice flowing across the unfamiliar Japanese words struck him until he had to splash cold water across his face just to keep himself sane. Swallowing hard, he left the bathroom, pieces of damp blond hair sticking to the sides of his face as he sat back down beside the younger man. He was starting to regret bartering for that seat.

 

“Are you okay?” Sicheng asked. His Korean had gotten so much better lately.

 

“Just a bit queasy,” Yuta said.

 

“Queasy?”

 

“Yeah. Probably just nerves.” He waved the topic away. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Okay.” Sicheng reached down into his bag and pulled out a book. Chinese characters lined the front, and he delved in quietly, leaving Yuta to his thoughts and the unsettling feeling of guilt low in his gut.

 

 _Hageshiku_.

 

Yuta put in his headphones and tried to sleep. It was a short flight from Seoul to Osaka, just a couple hours, but still enough time to get some rest. He was going to need it in preparation for the next few days.

 

 _Ikuzou_.

 

Yuta closed his eyes, blocking out everything else, and fell into a fitful nap.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yuta, we’re here.”

 

Groggy, Yuta blinked his eyes open. Taeyong was the one who’d spoken; he was standing in the plane’s main aisle with his carry-on slung over his shoulder. Most of the other NCT members were lined up behind him, ready to disembark, save Yuta and Sicheng. The younger man was asleep beside him, his book still open on his lap. _Cute._ Yuta smiled, only to remember the uneasiness in his stomach—the things he had Sicheng say in Japanese, rolling off his tongue in that deep, sonorous voice.

 

 _Hageshiku_.

 

“Wake Sicheng,” Taeyong said, his voice low.

 

Yuta nodded and put a hand on the younger’s shoulder, shaking him gently. Sicheng’s eyes flickered open in response and he groaned.

 

“We’re here,” Yuta said, only realizing in that moment what those words meant.

 

Osaka.

 

_Home._

 

His chest went tight, and he looked out the window beside Sicheng, catching a glimpse of the city past the airport.

 

_Home, home, home._

 

“Already?” Sicheng asked, yawning as he shut his book and slid it into his bag. Yuta gathered his things up as well, fishing a facemask out of his backpack and sliding it on. It was just a simple black cloth one, no special decoration, but it was his favorite. Sicheng did the same with a white one, and Yuta resisted the urge to cling to him as he usually did. He felt … bad.

 

 _Ikuzou_.

 

Why had he made Sicheng say those things?

 

“Yuta-hyung,” Sicheng said.

 

“Ah, sorry.”

 

The others had started to move as the airplane’s door opened. Taeyong and Johnny were almost to the front. Yuta got to his feet and squeezed out into the aisle, Sicheng behind him as they slowly made their way out of the airplane, into the airport, and through the gate. Thankfully, there were no fans there, so they got to laugh and joke and talk as they headed past other gates from so many other countries and cities—Yuta saw a flight land from Shanghai and heard Sicheng say something to Lucas in rushed Mandarin. The younger boy replied, just as loud and hyper as always, and Yuta rolled his eyes.

 

Once they exited the gate, the rush began. Fans were lined up along the walkway, calling out the names of their favorite members and taking pictures for fansites. Yuta waved to a couple people, smiling as he saw them flush or duck their heads in response. Sicheng did the same, but not as enthusiastically as Lucas, still tagging along behind him and waving at everyone he possibly could. He was also one of the few not wearing a facemask, along with Taeyong, Johnny, and Mark.

 

Things were the same, but different.

 

Every time Sicheng glanced at him, Yuta felt something in his stomach clench painfully. He had just wanted to mess with the younger man a bit, but seeing the innocence on his face as he asked what those Japanese words meant made Yuta realize how flustered and embarrassed Sicheng would probably be if he told him the truth. All he could do was hope that the topic never came up again for the rest of his life.

 

The rest of their jaunt through the airport was uneventful enough. A line of cars was waiting for them outside, and Taeyong counted heads as everyone crammed in. Yuta ended up squished between Taeil and Lucas, the older of which gave him an odd look.

 

“Why aren’t you sitting next to Sicheng?”

 

Sicheng, who sat in front of him next to Renjun, chatting amicably. Sicheng, who still didn’t understand the words he’d said on the plane. Sicheng, who noticed his gaze and turned to smile at him.

 

_Kuso._

 

“Renjun asked to talk to him,” he lied.

 

Taeil nodded, but he didn’t seem to believe that explanation. Yuta didn’t care. He just wanted to be left alone.

 

By the time they made it to the hotel, the sun had begun to set. The concert was in two days. They were one of the last groups to arrive in Osaka. NCT tumbled out of their respective cars, yawning and mumbling sleepily as they checked in and went up to their rooms. Yuta didn’t know who he was rooming with—usually, at least two other people—until he got up to the third floor and realized the only person with him was none other than Dong Sicheng.

 

Yuta swallowed hard. “What room are you in?”

 

“308.”

 

“… Me too.”

 

Sicheng smiled and said nothing else, opting instead to silently lead them down the corridor and to room 308. It was a nice hotel room, sparsely furnished, with a nightstand between the two queen beds, a TV across from them, a bathroom, and even a small balcony. Yuta hesitated on the room’s threshold as Sicheng disappeared into the bathroom—probably to shower. Good. Yuta would be in bed and pretending to be asleep before he got out.

 

But first.

 

He dropped his bags by the bed closest to him and headed toward the balcony, sliding the glass door open and getting his first true look of the city. The drive from the airport to the hotel had been uneventful, leaving him with only a few wayward glances, but now he could see Osaka in all its glory.

 

_Home._

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

Yuta jumped, spinning around to see Sicheng standing behind him. The younger man was dressed only in a bathrobe, his face bare and his hair wet. He looked worried. Yuta wondered how long he’d been standing there, staring out over his hometown. Or maybe Sicheng just took really quick showers.

 

“I’m fine,” he lied.

 

Sicheng smiled a little. “ _Usotsuki_.”

 

And everything in Yuta went cold.

 

“You …”

 

“I learned that one on my own,” Sicheng said, “As well as a few others.”

 

“A few—?”

 

“I’m going to bed.”

 

The younger man slid the door to the balcony closed, leaving Yuta reeling in the cool night air.

 

 

 

 

 

Morning the next day was a rush of panic and last-minute calls. All eighteen members of NCT were at the SMtown venue by eleven, going through dress rehearsals as they prepared for the concert the next night. Every NCT unit was performing, touching base with most of their discography. They’d been practicing for weeks, of course, making sure everyone had all the different choreographies down, but now this was it. The final call.

 

Yuta practiced on and off, joining in for Firetruck, Cherry Bomb, Touch, and Black on Black, all the while feeling pretty bad for Mark who was also included in Seventh Sense, My First and Last, We Young, and Go. Only when Taeyong and Ten started rehearsing for Baby Don’t Stop did anyone even start to relax as they realized the worst was over.

 

The left the venue at around six at night, heading out to get dinner. One of their managers tagged along, as usual, but left most of the actual leading to Taeyong. Yuta suggested one of his favorite _okonomiyaki_ restaurants for dinner, a place called _Ajinoya_ in downtown Osaka, and after a resounding chorus of agreement, they headed in that direction.

 

“Hey,” Taeyong said, sidling up to Yuta. That left the manager to lead the group, alone in the front with only Taeil as company.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

Yuta blinked. “What do you mean?”

 

“Between you and Sicheng.”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

“You’ve just seemed distant. You’re usually hanging all over him.” Taeyong frowned, pouting a little. “I just thought I’d check. I don’t like it when you guys fight.”

 

“We’re not fighting.” It wasn’t a lie, not technically. He had no idea what was going on between them, but there was an odd supercharge in the air now, a knowing, and Yuta was terrified of what that meant.

 

 _Usotsuki_.

 

All the thoughts he’d been trying not to let himself think came flooding in all at once. If Sicheng knew how to say _liar_ , did he understand the things Yuta had him say on the plane? Was he just pretending not to know? Or had he looked them up afterwards and discovered the truth? If so, why hadn’t he confronted Yuta about it? Why had he just called Yuta a liar in Japanese and then gone to bed? It didn’t make any sense.

 

“Yuta?”

 

“Hm? What?”

 

“I asked if you were sure everything was okay.”

 

“Yeah.” He forced a smile. “I’m sure.”

 

Taeyong shrugged, mumbled something about _kids_ , and then moved back to the front of the group to save their manager from Taeil. Yuta watched him go, feeling even worse now. If Taeyong had noticed the sudden distance between him and Sicheng, he was sure others had noticed. _Kuso_. Maybe he should try talking to the younger man, explain himself, that it had just been a joke.

 

Just a joke.

 

Sicheng was in front of him, walking side-by-side with Mark. They were talking about something in low tones. Mark seemed serious. Sicheng’s expression was about the same as always, but he must have felt Yuta’s gaze because he glanced back, and his eyes darkened.

 

Something in Yuta stopped.

 

He had seen that look before, in movies and TV shows, in the eyes of the girls and boys who used to come to him in high school, confessing their feelings. He knew what it meant, knew its connotations. He would recognize it anywhere, had seen it countless times.

 

But on Sicheng’s face, the expression left him breathless.

 

Then the moment passed, and Sicheng was just himself again. Yuta felt like he had whiplash. He barely even registered entering the restaurant, too distracted by the creeping suspicion beginning to take root in his chest. If Sicheng knew what Yuta had him say on the plane, if he’d looked it up and he wasn’t upset, instead giving Yuta _that look_ , then that meant …

 

That meant.

 

Yuta sat next to Sicheng.

 

“Some of us were going to go around Osaka for a bit before we go back to the hotel,” Doyoung was saying. “Do you want to come, Yuta?”

 

He felt a hand on his thigh. “No,” he said. “I’m pretty tired. I just want to go to bed after we eat.”

 

“Aww,” Haechan sighed. “I was hoping you’d show us around.”

 

Yuta smiled. “There are other days.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“What about you, Sicheng?” Doyoung asked.

 

Sicheng smiled. The hand he had on Yuta’s thigh clenched, almost painful. “I’m pretty tired too.”

 

“You guys are lame.”

 

Yuta didn’t care what Doyoung thought of him. He was in Osaka, he was home, and Sicheng wasn’t upset, and the tension between them was different now, just as it had been the night before—supercharged, an electric current that tingled up and down his spine. He barely paid attention to his food as he ate, laughing and joking with the other members so they didn’t get suspicious, all the while feeling Sicheng beside him. Hyperaware.

 

With dinner finished, NCT split into groups; most of the older members went out to explore the city, leaving Yuta and Sicheng to escort the Dreamies back to the hotel sans Mark and Haechan. The younger members were not happy at being confined back to their rooms, so Sicheng told them jokes on the drive back to the hotel to cheer them up. By the time they arrived, everyone was in much better spirits, and Yuta herded them up to their respective rooms before joining Sicheng on the third floor.

 

Neither said anything. The elevator was silent in the Dreamies’ wake, and Yuta fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, suddenly unsure, suddenly worried. What if he had misinterpreted Sicheng’s intentions?

 

“Yuta.”

 

Years of schooling and living in Osaka, plus his current nerves, had conditioned him to respond with, “ _Hai_ ,” and Sicheng smiled.

 

“I have a confession to make.”

 

“… Okay.”

 

“I know what you had me say on the plane.”

 

Yuta’s stomach dropped. He swallowed hard, a million excuses coming to his mind, the tension he thought he felt between them falling away to reveal something else entirely. He’d been wrong. Sicheng was upset with him. Yuta felt tears burn behind his eyes and blinked a couple times as he summed up the courage to look at the younger man.

 

But when he did, Sicheng was too close.

 

Sicheng was kissing him.

 

… _What?_

 

The younger man pulled back, his eyes dark and hooded, searching. Yuta tried to speak a few times but only managed a choked, “ _Nani?_ ”

 

Sicheng laughed a little. “I knew from the beginning, hyung. I just wanted to see what you would do if I pretended not to understand.”

 

“H-how did you know?”

 

“Porn.”

 

“You watch porn in Japanese?”

 

“I’m not picky.” Sicheng tilted his head to the side. “Did you think I was mad at you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

Yuta could still feel Sicheng’s lips on his. “Obviously.”

 

A smirk pulled up one corner of the younger’s mouth. He took Yuta’s hand as the elevator doors slid open, pulling him out and down the hallway to their shared room. Yuta wasn’t sure where this was going, but when Sicheng kicked the door shut behind them and pulled Yuta in close, he realized he didn’t care about thinking things through anymore.

 

“Kiss me,” Sicheng whispered.

 

And Yuta did.

 

Falling, sinking into the younger’s warmth, pulling him close until he wasn’t sure were either of them ended and the other began. At some point, their clothes came off, strewn across the room, and Yuta was on his back on the bed, struck speechless. He’d been waiting for this for so long, but he never really thought it would happen. He never thought he would get to experience Sicheng, above him, Sicheng, trailing kisses down his neck, Sicheng, asking him if he had lube and condoms.

 

_This is happening._

 

“I-in my bag,” he said.

 

Sicheng laughed again, soft and bright. “You came prepared.”

 

“I like to be for these sorts of situations.” It was no secret that Yuta was sexually active, so he liked to always have things on hand just in case. He just never really considered that Sicheng would be the one utilizing those things, of course, but this was the best-case scenario. He wasn’t about to start complaining.

 

Sicheng pulled his jeans down and off, his eyes widening a bit when he saw nothing else underneath. He mumbled something in Mandarin, but before Yuta could ask what he said, there was a lubed finger pressing against him, and Yuta couldn’t catch his breath.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

It took a second for him to register the question. “Y-yeah,” he gasped. “You just caught me off-guard a bit.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Another finger pressed in. Yuta relished the slight burn, sinking into it, his toes curling as he realized—really _realized_ —that Sicheng’s fingers were inside him, Sicheng was stretching him out, Sicheng was hard.

 

Sicheng was hard.

 

“Oh,” Yuta breathed. The younger man had discarded his jeans as well, though he still had on his boxers, and his erection was straining against the cloth. Yuta licked his lips at the thought of seeing Sicheng bared completely for him.

 

“Beg for me.”

 

Yuta started, staring up at Sicheng. “What?”

 

“Beg for me.”

 

Breath wouldn’t come. Yuta inhaled shakily, the only word he could think of coming out in Japanese, a whispered plea. “ _Onegai_.”

 

“Good.” A third finger, and Yuta felt the coil in his abdomen begin to stretch taut. Sicheng’s eyes were so dark as he hovered above him, murmuring filth in a mix of Mandarin and Korean that Yuta’s lust-addled mind just barely caught onto.

 

Then Sicheng asked, “ _Kimochii?_ ”

 

Yuta whimpered. “ _H-hai, kimochii_.”

 

“Good.” Sicheng leaned down, still stretching him out with three long fingers, and licked a stripe up Yuta’s neck. The older man groaned, his hips rolling up, searching for friction. Sicheng chuckled and put one hand on his pelvis to keep him pinned down. It was insanely hot, and Yuta thought he had never been harder in his life.

 

“Ready?”

 

Yuta nodded, ready for this, ready for Sicheng. Always. He watched as Sicheng pulled back and rolled a condom on, discarding the wrapper to the side, and then slowly—too slow—began to slide in. Not enough. Yuta grabbed at Sicheng’s shoulders and asked for more, more, more. The younger man exhaled a laugh and bottomed out, pulling a small, choked cry from Yuta’s throat. Then he was moving, and Yuta was just along for the ride, gasping out pleas in Japanese, parroting back the same words he had Sicheng say the day before.

 

“ _Hageshiku, motto hageshiku_.”

 

Nothing but this—the darkened room, Osaka sparkling outside, their breaths hot and heavy as Sicheng’s hips moved to meet his. With every push, Yuta felt himself unraveling. He couldn’t catch a breath, couldn’t say anything except _onegai_ and _motto_ and _kimochii_ , the words tangling around themselves until nothing but ragged noises made it past his lips. Sicheng leaned down, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss. Yuta kissed back, desperate, only to pull back with a gasp as the dam inside him broke, sudden and unexpected.

 

“ _Ikuzou!_ ”

 

His release splattered along his abdomen, and Sicheng groaned, his rhythm stuttering and then failing as he followed right behind.

 

They paused in the aftermath, catching their breath.

 

Sicheng pulled out of him, shuddering from the sensitivity, and sighed in what sounded like a mixture of relief and contentment. Yuta felt sticky and boneless and amazing. He vaguely registered Sicheng getting up to get rid of the condom, coming back with a wad of toilet paper that he used to clean Yuta’s chest and abs. It tickled a bit, and Yuta giggled, euphoric after his orgasm.

 

“Wow,” Sicheng said then, laying down beside him.

 

Yuta snuggled up close. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Words were unnecessary. Yuta thought of the day before, how confused and guilty he’d felt juxtaposed with this moment now, and saw such a difference that he couldn’t believe it had only been a day since that incident on the plane. Sicheng was beside him, warm and soft, and Yuta felt a delicious ache slowly thrum through his body as he began to fall asleep.

 

“ _Aishiteru_ ,” he mumbled.

 

Fingers brushed pieces of his hair aside, and Yuta sighed happily as Sicheng replied.

 

“ _Wǒ ài nǐ._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Japanese words/phrases used
> 
> Hageshiku - harder  
> Ikuzou - I'm coming  
> Usotsuki - liar  
> Onegai - please (begging/asking)  
> Kuso - shit/fuck  
> Motto - more  
> Kimochii - feels good  
> Aishiteru - I love you


End file.
